The Clone Apocalypse Read Online Free

the clones took over,” said Tasman. “I don’t trust anybody who works both sides of a war.”
    “You worked both sides,” Emily pointed out.
    Tasman only smiled, an unpleasant sight. His teeth had grayed to the color of wet cement. His gums were whiter than his teeth.
    She looked around the shitty little one-room apartment with its worn furniture and bare wood floor. The sinks dripped all day, and the only oven was an old-fashioned microwave. In her mind, living in that apartment was punishment enough; sharing it with Tasman was like entering an inner circle of Hell.
    The building had stairs instead of an elevator. Emily knew the only way Tasman could leave the building was riding on Watson’s back. She said, “You know what, Howie? We could have left here a month ago if it weren’t for you.”
    Tasman said, “Your boyfriend is the president of the Enlisted Man’s Empire. Why don’t you step out on the street and see who salutes him?”
    Watson wasn’t really the president of the EME, but he’d spent a few weeks in charge on an interim basis. Now he was in hiding.
    They were on the southeastern outskirts of Washington, D.C., the wrong part of town. The neighborhood had become infested with Unified Authority soldiers, and that wasn’t the only problem. Most of the local citizens preferred a government of natural-borns to clone rule. In their eyes, Watson, a natural-born who had risen up the civilian ranks under the clones, was a traitor.
    “Rhodes might be able to get us out of here,” said Watson.
    Emily asked Tasman, “You said he worked for an intelligence agency?”
    “Yeah, one of them.”
    “Does he work for the Marines?” she asked.
    “Do you associate Marines with intelligence?” asked Tasman. “I said ‘intelligence’; that means he doesn’t work for the Marines.”
    In his right hand, Rhodes carried a small case marked with the emblem of the EME Marines—an eagle perched on a globe with an anchor in the background.
    Emily said, “Do you see the emblem on his case?”
    “That doesn’t make him a Marine,” said Tasman.
    Watson started to take Emily’s side, then he realized the old bastard had a point. They were in Unified Authority territory. Only a suicidal fool would carry a case like that on these streets. Either a fool, or someone with powerful friends.
    Emily asked, “So what’s he doing with that case?”
    “Maybe we should go ask him,” quipped Tasman.
    Sounding even more sarcastic, Watson said, “Now there’s an idea.”
    Emily said, “Trav, maybe we should stop him.”
    Travis Watson stood six-foot-six, but he was a law-school graduate, not a fighter, and he had no tolerance for pain. On the other hand, he had spent the last month of his life on the lam. Though he didn’t realize it, desperation had toughened him.
    Emily added, “He might have an encrypted phone. We’d be able to call Wayson or Freeman for help.”
    Tasman said, “Watson, if there’s a problem, you can take him. You’re bigger than he is.”
    “You said he was a spy,” said Watson. “He might be dangerous.”
    “I said he was an administrator.”
    It was the middle of the day in an underclass Washington suburb in August. The day was oppressively bright and humid. The buildings across the street seemed to radiate in the heat.
    Watson paused, thought of the possible outcomes, and said, “Tasman, you’re coming with me.”
    “What about me?” asked Emily.
    “You’re staying here,” said Watson.
    Emily said, “Get specked, Watson. What if he kicks your teeth in? You might need me.”
    Watson loved Emily. He said, “You’ll be safer up here.”
    She laughed, and said, “Listen, Galahad, I’ve seen what happens when you lose a fight. You’re going to need me.”
    Embarrassed by his girlfriend’s lack of confidence, Watson asked, “You don’t trust me?”
    “In a fight?” asked Emily. “Travis, dear, I bet I can take you.”
    Tasman laughed, showing his white gums and gray